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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105014">Absalom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, basically L'Manburg has feelings, don't really know how to tag this lol, she's reflecting on the shit that's gone down</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:56:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just L'Manburg personified, thinking about stuff that's gone down on the server.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Absalom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok I swear this is not as weird as it sounds. Just L'Manburg thinking about stuff that's happened. I think it will make sense when you read it. I hope it does lol. As always, comments are super appreciated! This one is a bit short, but I hope you enjoy.<br/>Also: the whole Absalom thing is a reference to the bible, when King David's son, Absalom, is killed. Just a line I really like and I think is used in a lot of other media because it is a banger.</p><p>Follow my tumblr if you'd like: lwbones</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you are quiet enough, on a moonless night, when the wind slows its howl and the birds still from their restless flight, you can hear L’Manburg weep.</p><p>From her creaking docks you can hear the moan, low and steady, from the highest, groaning crane, you can hear the sobs, ragged and mournful. </p><p>She calls out, words choked and breathless. Her tears are a stain on a torn flag.</p><p>“Oh my son Absalom, my son!”</p><p>It is an exclamation born of love, twisted in grief. </p><p>Some say that L’Manburg is cursed. It’s why there is no one left in the once lively streets. No one but ghosts, who drag their dwindling, fading parts from building to building, memories like fireflies, glowing just out of reach.</p><p>Memories that stain the ground they walk on, the walls they trail their once warm hands along. </p><p>Memories of friends, of family, of yellow and black walls, of crystal water, emerald grass.</p><p>Now the country sags above a crater marked red.</p><p>There is a boy who has stayed, who watches over her with tired eyes. She knows him, though he was not always so weary, not always so stony faced. He sighs more often now, stares out over the docks as if seeing something that isn't there. He doesn’t seem to like whatever it is he sees.</p><p>And the other boy, what of him? He is gone now, long gone. Why, she does not know. He has left behind a hole, which hurts more than the crater, carved into her very center. </p><p>It is a shame, she thinks. She loved that boy. </p><p>There is another, a brown eyed, charming young man that she remembers well. </p><p>It started with him, didn’t it? It started with hope, and with joy. She remembers that. Like flowers bursting from the earth, like butterflies shaking off their cocoon. It was infectious. It was invigorating. It felt like being born again.</p><p>How did it end? It ended with a father, crying out to his son.</p><p>“Oh my son Absalom, my son! If only I had died, instead of you.”</p><p>And the son does not answer, because the son is dead.</p><p>And there is no peace in death, not for the wicked. Only horrible uncertainty.  </p><p>She knows this now, because as she watches on, bowing beneath the curse of forever life, she sees him walk the streets he does not know, greet the people he does not recognize. </p><p>She cries for him, for her lost son, for her lost children, who pace the ground until it is worn beneath their feet, who tear at the world until there is nothing left standing, who fight like their tomorrow will surely appear on the horizon. </p><p>How many times can they bleed, can they bruise, can they scar? </p><p>She sees them all, her lost and wandering children. She calls for them. </p><p>“Oh my son Absalom, my son!" </p><p>She sees them all, and she sees how it ends. Was there ever any other way?</p><p>"If only I could die," she whispers, and the wind shivers with her words, the stars tremble with her pleas. "If only I could die, instead of you.”</p>
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